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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223307">Everything and Nothing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham'>bobbiewickham</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>X-ameron [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - Victor Hugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:29:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbiewickham/pseuds/bobbiewickham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac tries to cheer up Grantaire, and finds it harder than expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>X-ameron [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Everything and Nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/gifts">yet_intrepid</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for a prompt from yet_intrepid: Courfeyrac+anyone, "this is more trouble than I expected". Written as the first of a series of prompt-fics during the Great Coronavirus Social Distancing of 2020, or the X-ameron (since it may, sadly, be longer than 10 days).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Would you care to substitute for Lesgle tonight?” Joly’s face was mild and earnest as he asked the question; it was as if he didn’t even know Courfeyrac.</p><p>“I’m honored that you and Musichetta would consider me for such a role, Joly. I know I’m charming, but I never dared to dream–ow.”</p><p>Joly had smacked him on the nose. “I meant at the theater, idiot. I have an extra ticket, but Bossuet has fallen sick. We’d meant to take Grantaire out to a comedy to cheer him.”</p><p>“Why does he need cheering?” Courfeyrac had seen Grantaire earlier in the week, and he had been his usual self: verbose, jocular, and drunk.</p><p>“Truthfully, I’m not sure. Tonight was to be a chance to worm it out of him, but I think without Lesgle, that plan must be put aside.”</p><p>“I’m hurt that you would so insult my talents as a worm,” Courfeyrac sniffed, “but, magnanimous friend that I am, I’ll overlook the slight. You may consider that extra ticket accounted for.”</p><p>Grantaire was visibly downcast when Courfeyrac met him. He did not smile when he was greeted, nor when the audience dissolved into laughter at the bed-swapping antics of the characters in the play, nor when a young, handsome actor fell drunkenly off the edge of the stage and landed in an old lady’s lap, to her unconcealed delight. After the play, Courfeyrac and Joly exchanged glances. Neither felt right about leaving Grantaire to meander home by himself. “Let’s stop by the Corinthe,” Courfeyrac said. “I’m sure the ladies miss us; they haven’t seen me since three o’clock this afternoon, and I won’t break their tender hearts any longer.”</p><p>When they were ensconced at a table, Joly ordered a bottle of wine, and shook his head at Matelote’s query if they wanted a second. They talked idly of this and that, with Courfeyrac and Joly providing most of the topics, while Grantaire stared into his cup. Finally, Courfeyrac lost patience. “What’s the problem, my friend? Don’t say it’s nothing. You’ve been gloomy-faced all night long, and Joly here has been worried about you. Even Lesgle is worried about you, and the poor fellow is sick himself.”</p><p>Grantaire grimaced, and shrugged. “I’m a cheerful man, for the most part, so perhaps it may surprise you to learn that, yes, I can be saddened by nothing–or by everything, which amounts to the same thing. Nothing contains every thing, after all, and–”</p><p>“Stop it,” Courfeyrac commanded, wishing to cut off the flow of extravagant, innuendo-laden, diversionary speech before it began. He looked at Joly again, but Joly was looking at Grantaire.</p><p>“I’ve told you the truth,” said Grantaire, “and I’ll say no more, only pass me the bottle for a final cup, and I will go home.”</p><p>Courfeyrac had expected to jolly Grantaire through some small misfortune, perhaps a grisette’s rejection or a sharp letter from his father. A general despair seemed almost more than Courfeyrac could manage, but he rallied. “We will share the final cup,” he said, pouring a few drams for each of them. “Why don’t you stay here awhile?” Grantaire sank back, looking almost comfortable, and even put in a few words as Joly and Courfeyrac talked some more. And if his gloom couldn’t be defeated and sent running, it seemed it could at least be diluted in chatter and warmth.</p>
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